


Shiver

by JBMcDragon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ABO, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, First Time, Knotting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4101298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBMcDragon/pseuds/JBMcDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A break in the craziness that has been Steve Roger's life means he can finally take the time to do a little traveling and see the world. Fiji seems like a good place to start. </p><p>Then Bruce tells him he's going into heat. He's a little shocked. He's <i>never</i> gone into heat. He'd assumed, by this time, that he couldn't. Luckily, Bruce has a safe space nearby for Steve to wait things out. Even luckier, Bruce just happens to be an alpha.</p><p>**Takes place after Age of Ultron: minor spoiler warnings.**</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shiver

**Author's Note:**

> Once more, this fic contains spoilers for Age of Ultron. (Do you have any idea how hard it is to NOT have spoilers in the summary?) 
> 
> This was a totally gratuitous excuse for writing smut. Lots of smut. At least 80% smut. Read further if you're looking for smut. If you're looking for deep, plotty, thinky things... try "FUBAR" or "40 mg" instead.
> 
> Finally, because Ashlan, Daroos and I were all hanging out one day, discussing A/B/O fic, and somehow (I seriously do NOT remember how), this got plotted. I hate/love you both. Okay, no, I just love you. Mwah. ;)

Bruce paused in the doorway of the town's cafe, spotting a familiar face. For just a moment he debated turning around and leaving. Fiji was a popular destination. Maybe it was only coincidence that Steve was here. And if it wasn't, Bruce could hunker down on his empty islet until Steve left. With over three hundred islands to explore, it was doubtful Steve would find his, specifically.

Then Steve laughed at something the cafe owner said, his smile easy under his tattered Yankees hat. That blue gaze glanced around, and spotted Bruce. Steve sat back slowly, turning as he did so to prop his arm on the back of his chair. He didn't say anything. Didn't approach. Just waited.

After a long minute Bruce unlocked his knees and walked forward, setting his knapsack down and taking the chair at Steve's little wooden table. "So," Bruce said, a hint of anger in his voice. "You found me. I wondered how long it would take."

Steve twiddled his straw in his drink, condensation dripping down the side of the glass. "I'm here unofficially. On break. I just thought..." he glanced up at Bruce from under the brim of his ballcap. "I hoped I might get some sign that you really were alive and all right. Nat and Fury don't know I'm here."

Somehow, that made things better. Bruce took a deep breath and released it. "Okay," he said. "Now that you know..." He took another deep breath, this time registering what he was smelling. People were glancing at them -- never uncommon when you were around Steve, whether or not Steve was trying to be incognito -- but this was a different look. 

Bruce gave Steve a sharp once-over. Steve's skin was warm, sweaty, a little flushed. But then, he was in _Fiji_. Everyone's skin was like that. The powder blue T-shirt that Steve wore was a little too tight, as most of his shirts were, damp with sweat and tan with beach dust around the collar and under the arms. Blond hairs at the nape of his neck had gone spiky with moisture against his skin. 

Bruce inhaled again and looked hard into Steve's eyes. His pupils were ever so slightly dilated. Bruce leaned forward across the table, resting on his elbows. He kept his voice low, and his eye contact steady. "You came to a strange place, with people you don't know, this close to heat? Are you crazy?"

Steve blinked several times, head twitching with each one as if Bruce's words were as startling as a bug bite. "What? No, I--" Then he frowned and sat forward as well, body language closing down. When he brought his head near Bruce's, the scent was unmistakable. "I did no such thing."

Bruce inhaled again. It was heady. It was _definitely_ Steve, even if Bruce would never have guessed he was an omega. This was foolhardy. Bruce stood up, looking around. "Come on. Let's get you out of here." 

Steve stood as well, looking around as if searching for whatever Bruce was looking for. Bruce put his hand near Steve's lower back, not quite touching but ushering him the long way around the table and out the door. "Where are you staying?" There were several hotels on this island, and more on the next island over. "Which hotel?"

"I have a place through AirB&B -- Bruce, what's wrong?"

Bruce stopped just outside the door of the cafe. AirB&B. People who rented out rooms or houses to travelers. Of course Steve would think bunking with strangers was a great idea. "Did you rent a room or a house?" he asked, imagining the free for all if there were other people present when Steve -- incredibly attractive, friendly Steve -- went into full heat. When incredibly attractive, friendly Steve was suddenly needy and horny and vulnerable and willing to do anything. Bruce's own protective instincts rose, and he stifled a warning glare at passersby.

"A room -- Bruce, _what_ is wrong?" Steve gripped his upper arm, pulling him out of the doorway.

Bruce stared at him with incredulity. "What is -- Steve, you're--" he leaned closer and hissed the words so no one else would hear, " _going into heat_!"

Steve pulled back. "What? No." Then, more surely, "No. I might be over heated, I've been a little warm, but I'm not -- I've never--"

Bruce cut him off, grabbing his elbow and steering him toward the port. "You're not over heated." He figured "you fool" went unsaid. "You've got twelve hours, I'm guessing. Maybe twenty-four. Do you have anything you need at your rented room?"

"No," Steve said, still sounding a little baffled.

"Did you fly here? Is Tony here?"

"No -- commercial airline." He sounded a little annoyed. Bruce ignored it. If they used Bruce's boat, got him to the mainland and on a flight within the next few hours...

Steve would be in a flying tin can with recycled air or in the middle of an airport surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands, of strangers when he went into full heat. 

"You're an _omega_?" Bruce asked, still flabbergasted by that fact, then turned away and pulled Steve through the crowd without waiting for an answer. 

People were looking. This was exactly the kind of attention Bruce was trying so hard to avoid. 

"Bruce," Steve said, and this time he definitely sounded annoyed. He stopped walking, and Bruce came to a hard stop along with him. "I think I would know if I were going into heat. I don't..." He looked a little uncomfortable, glancing at the horizon and then a distant island. "I don't do that." His slightly uncomfortable expression wiped clean, and he said firmly, "I might be coming down with the flu, though."

Bruce stepped closer, peering at him. "You feel a little warm?"

"Sure." Steve shrugged.

"A little achy?"

"Flu," Steve pointed out wryly.

"Hard to focus?"

Steve just stared back at him, resigned and annoyed all at once. 

"Sweaty?"

Steve gestured to the island. "Amazing deductive abilities, Bruce."

"Between your buttocks?"

At that Steve's eyes flicked away. He set his hands on his hips in clear irritation, a flush going up his cheeks. "Well, who isn't?"

"And when was the last time you got the flu? Not since the serum, right?"

Steve's jaw clenched and he glared at the horizon.

"I'm not sweaty between my buttocks," Bruce pointed out. "You, _Captain America_ , are neither _over heating_ nor getting the _flu_. You're going into heat." There must have been something in Bruce's tone that caught Steve's attention. Blue eyes met his and held, a crease forming between blond brows. 

"How sure are you?" Steve still didn't sound convinced.

Purposely, Bruce leaned still closer and inhaled slowly, starting at Steve's chest. Steve was warm and a little musky. Bruce rose, face nearly touching Steve, close enough to share body heat. He felt Steve's chin rise -- baring his throat? Moving out of the way of Bruce's head? -- and moved up along the tendon that ran from the pale hollow between Steve's collarbones all the way up to behind his ear. Goose bumps prickled to life on Steve's skin, following the line Bruce had traced. Point made, Bruce stepped back and looked at his handiwork. Steve's pupils were wide, his breathing quick. "Very sure," Bruce said quietly. "Come on."

This time, Steve didn't argue.

**

He wasn't going into heat. The motor on the boat was far too loud and the wind too busy tearing at them for him to say that to Bruce, but he repeated it to himself as they shot over clear ocean water. 

He wasn't going into heat. He was on suppressants, for goodness' sake. He'd never gone into heat, anyway. After the serum, he wasn't even sure he ever would. 

He wasn't going into heat.

He sat at the front of the little boat while Bruce rode at the back, steering. Tiny mounds not big enough to even be called islets dotted the clear water. It was about twenty minutes before he realized they were headed straight at a larger islet, mostly covered with the Fijian rain forest. He could see no signs of habitation on it, and was at least glad that his guess after some research had been correct: Bruce had settled down on one of the islets owned by real estate companies across the world. There were dozens of them, and the companies sold them as someone's own private paradise, ready to be built on. No one would come here, unless they were looking to buy.

They neared the beach and Bruce cut the motor, then pulled it out of the water and into the boat. The boat kept drifting toward the sands, and Bruce hopped out when the water was thigh-deep, striding to the front and pulling it toward the islet. Steve jumped out as well, though Bruce hadn't asked him to, and together they dragged it on land rapidly.

"This way," Bruce said, taking the lead and walking along the beach. Steve followed, breathing deeply of humid air refreshed by the ocean and the forest. They walked around a spur of trees and a house came into view. Or a hut, really. The walls were uneven wooden slats that let the breeze through, the roof made from layered palm fronds. 

"Home sweet home," Bruce said, and Steve could hear the discomfort in his voice. "Look, you won't tell anyone--"

"Our secret," Steve said reassuringly, and added with a smile, "I don't think I could find this islet again if I tried."

Bruce chuckled at him, but there was still worry lingering in the lines of his face. "No, probably not." Those brown eyes swept Steve's body before facing forward again. Steve tried to ignore the warmth it left under his skin. 

He wasn't in heat. He was just over heated. He wasn't used to this heat and humidity. Not even New York in the summer was like this, and he'd grown accustomed to air conditioning. That was all. 

They walked past several rainwater collection tubs, a giant tank of drinking water, and a fire pit. A split log made a bench. Bruce opened the door and they stepped into the hut. It was one room, with a cot covered with mosquito netting pushed into a corner, and the rest of the hut filled with stacks of books and magazines, a folding table littered with papers that were, in turn, covered in Bruce's scrawl and formulas Steve didn't understand. 

There was rough made furniture put together from local woods and vines. No sign of technology, though Bruce had several extra shirts and pants hanging over a horizontal pole. 

"It's temporary," Bruce said, fidgeting with his glasses. "At some point the islet will sell and they'll discover I'm squatting, so..." 

"It's nice." Steve entered further, pacing the little space. It was basic but functional. He could see Bruce living here, working on his science, keeping a low profile. "Everything you need."

Bruce nodded behind him. "And speaking of things you need, I could run back to the island. Get your stuff for you. But I do think you'd better stay here."

Right. There was that whole thing. Butterflies were frantic in Steve's stomach. He ignored them, and faced Bruce with all the assurance he could manage. "Bruce, I'm really not going into heat." 

Bruce's eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth to say something, but Steve cut him off.

"I don't think I can, with the serum. And even if I could, I'm on suppressants." Three times the normal dose, in fact. Just to be safe.

For the first time, Bruce looked a little less sure. "The serum changed you that much? You can tell you're not in heat?"

Steve felt a quick frown on his face, and smoothed it out. "Well, I don't know if I'd be able to tell, but--"

Bruce took a step forward. Steve wanted to take a step forward, too, but didn't. In the little house, he realized he could smell Bruce. Bruce smelled wonderful. 

"Why wouldn't you be able to tell? You don't know when you're going into heat?"

Now he didn't want to get any closer. Was this like sex, where people just casually talked about their sex lives (if they were Tony, whether or not you wanted to hear it)? He felt compelled to answer, though, and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, where his skin was over-warm. "Well... I mean, I never have, so..."

"Never have?" Bruce's voice was carefully modulated. He took a breath and seemed to settle himself, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt. "How old are you?"

Steve flushed, trying not to be defensive. "I was unwell as a teenager and young adult. Then I got the serum." He shrugged, at a loss. They didn't have suppressants in the forties; if he'd been likely to go into heat, he would have. 

Bruce looked thoughtful and spoke as if to himself. "Sick kid, sure. Then World War II... frozen for seventy years. That would put even your body under serious stress. Attacked by aliens. Then Hydra. Ultron." He focused on Steve. Steve folded his arms across his chest and waited, braced for something else he wouldn't like. 

"Steve, it's possible that you haven't gone into heat because you've been under too much stress. Correct me if I'm wrong, but is this the first stretch of downtime you've had since nineteen forty-- what? Three?"

Steve gave a little shrug. "I suppose. But Bruce, even if stress kept me from going into heat, I'm on suppressants."

"Which might work about as well as alcohol on you." Bruce held up both hands, his glasses in one. "Look, there's no way to know without blood work. No scientific way, anyway. But if I may...?"

May _what_ , Steve wasn't sure. But he trusted Bruce, so he nodded anyway. Bruce walked closer, into his personal space but carefully not touching. Not that it mattered. Steve could feel Bruce's body heat against him, even Bruce's breath. His skin prickled wherever Bruce stood. 

Bruce walked around him, and he felt Bruce sniff gently along his neck. He shivered and pretended he hadn't, arms crossing over his chest. Bruce moved to the other side of Steve's neck, still not touching, and sniffed delicately there. Steve let out a little breath. He closed his eyes against the desire to lean back into Bruce or roll his head to one side, baring his neck. 

"It's okay," Bruce said, and though part of Steve wanted to object -- of course it was okay, there was nothing wrong -- another part of him settled a little at the words. He was quietly startled at that. 

Bruce stepped away. He gestured to the only chair in the room, and sat down on the cot. Steve took the chair -- at least it was big enough to be comfortable, with a pillow on the seat and a blanket over the wooden back -- and braced his elbows on his knees, hands linked between them. 

Bruce's voice, when he spoke, was oddly gentle. "How much do you know about heat, Steve?"

His stomach sank. Bruce wouldn't be this gentle if Steve had been right. He gave a stiff shrug. "Enough. Of course. We learned about it in school, and I was in the army." Much like sex, it was one of those things that wasn't spoken of until you got a lot of guys together -- and then there was a lot of bragging. 

Unlike sex, you couldn't experience it whenever and however often you wanted. You had to wait for a heat.

Bruce covered a wince. "Yeah, I've seen the videos from the forties. Were you ever part of someone's heat in the army?"

He hesitated. He really didn't want to talk about this. It was like kissing and telling; things gentlemen didn't do. And besides, he doubted Bruce would appreciate the answer. He cleared his throat and girded himself. "No." 

"And you've never gone into heat before." It was a statement of dreary fact.

Steve stood up. "I guess now would be a good time to head home--"

"No, no," Bruce said quickly. "You may not get there in time. Look, you're safe here. Isolated so no over-eager and helpful alphas can come sniffing around. I have food and water and a safe space." Bruce stood, slowly. "Do you have a StarkPhone?"

"Of course." 

"Good. Cell reception doesn't work on this islet, but if you have a StarkPhone you can get the Stark Foundation's free satellite wifi. I'm going to go back to the island and get the supplies I went for in the first place, and I'll get your things if you tell me where you were. I want you to look up heat. Stick to the medical websites, all right?"

Steve nodded, worry gnawing his gut. 

"I'll be back in an hour or so. You'll be fine." Bruce reached as if to touch him, thought better of it, and dropped his hand. "Make yourself comfortable." 

Steve walked Bruce to the door, gave Bruce the address where he'd been staying, and watched until Bruce was gone. 

He didn't want to look this up. He didn't want it to be happening. Not because he felt strongly about not going into heat -- by all accounts, it wasn't some terrible thing -- but because it was _embarrassing_ and the only person around was Bruce. He couldn't ask Bruce to vacate for the next several days. 

Feeling more than a little distraught, Steve sat down on the wooden chair and opened up his phone.

**

An hour later Bruce was back on his boat, whizzing across the water to his islet. He had enough supplies now to feed him for two weeks, but figured with Steve there it might only last a few days. He should have stayed and just explained to Steve about heat, but... it was too difficult, looking into blue eyes that were trying so hard to seem confident in yet _another_ situation that Steve's past hadn't really equipped him for.

Suppressants. Bruce could throttle the SHIELD doctors. 

But he'd come up with a plan: he'd get Steve set up at the house, and then get himself a room at one of the hotels on the island. Bruce figured Steve had chosen now to search him out because somewhere his subconscious knew what was going on, and of all the alphas Steve had met, Bruce was safe. So Bruce would make sure Steve stayed safe.

He splashed into the water and pulled his boat onto shore. Grabbing the first box, he trudged toward his hut, coming around the corner to see the front door opened and Steve stripped to his shorts, splitting a log lengthwise with Bruce's ax. Sweat glistened on his skin, muscles shifting and flexing with every motion, and the whole area smelled like Steve in heat. Bruce's mouth went dry.

Steve caught sight of Bruce and planted the ax in the stump meant for that, grabbing up his shirt and pulling it on quickly. "Sorry," he called, as if it were nineteen forty and half naked men were indecent. He walked rapidly toward Bruce, his short hair disheveled and a wild light in his eyes. 

Bruce practically dropped the box. "No problem," he said, taking a few steps toward Steve. "Don't worry about it." Steve's scent was overblown, laced with anxiety. The wild light left Steve's eyes as soon as he was close enough to catch Bruce's scent, though. Bruce's heart sank, while his libido woke up. Heat was coming on fast, if Bruce's scent alone was enough to bring some calmness to Steve. 

Steve came to a quick stop, hooking his hands in his back pockets as if he was keeping himself from reaching out. "This for the house?" he asked, gesturing to the box.

Bruce nodded, and Steve took it from him like it weighed nothing. "Just put it under the overhang," Bruce directed, then waited for Steve to do so and come back. He turned and Steve followed, heading back to the boat and the two other boxes. "So," he said as they walked. "You better educated, now?"

Beside him, Steve frowned at the sand. "Yeah. It was... thorough." 

Bruce glanced at him sidelong, wondering if he'd stuck to the medical sites or if he'd gone digging further. God only knew what he would have found if he'd gone digging further. Porn, for sure. "I thought you could use my place," Bruce said. "I can get a room on the island for a few nights."

Steve didn't answer.

They made it to the boat, where Steve stacked the boxes and lifted them together as though they weighed nothing. Bruce walked beside Steve over the sand, stealing quick glances at him. They were halfway to the hut before Steve spoke. "It doesn't sound... pleasant to go through alone."

"A lot of people do it," Bruce reassured him. "It's not particularly enjoyable, maybe, but it's not awful. From what I hear." 

Steve set the boxes down next to the first one, unstacking them so everything was accessible. "The thing is," Steve said, "I don't want to impose, but... do you have to go?" He flushed and looked away. "I understand that you might not want to -- or be able to -- to, uh, bond. I just..." As if giving in to an internal voice, he finally looked at Bruce again and gave that hopeful, almost apologetic half smile that was so Steve. "It is my first time, and I don't really know what to expect. I could use a friend." 

Bruce couldn't say no to that smile. But he couldn't really say yes, either. "Steve," he said carefully, "did you read about consent?" Because he frankly didn't trust that Steve wasn't already too far gone to give it.

Steve snapped his fingers like he'd just remembered something, said, "Yeah," and rushed around Bruce and into the hut. He returned a moment later with a piece of paper and handed it to Bruce. Then he blushed. _Blushed_. Bruce couldn't look away. "It might be a little presumptive, but I wanted to cover all the bases before... before."

Bruce tore his eyes away from Steve and looked at the note. His eyebrows rose. It was a note of consent, giving Bruce control of pretty much any and everything they might do, short of any physical harm. Steve had signed and dated it, and included the time -- twenty minutes after Bruce had left, surely before he'd descended to where he was now. 

Bruce looked up at Steve slowly. "You know what you're consenting to, here?" It was vague enough to include everything, but not terribly specific. 

Steve propped his hands on his hips and squinted into the sun. "Sure." 

"Specifically, Steve." 

Steve blew a breath out between his lips. He looked more clear headed then when Bruce had first gotten back, Bruce had to admit. He smelled _wonderful_. "Bruce, I don't know what you can or want to do. But the more research I did, the more I found that the more people do with a partner, the better an experience it is. So..." He looked like he had to steel himself to talk about it. "If you're willing, then... so am I."

Bruce stared at him. "Ohhh, this is a bad idea," he said at last, shaking his head. "This is such a bad idea, Steve."

Steve closed his eyes as if praying for patience, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Then he pulled out his winning card, eyes still closed as if he couldn't open them and say this. "Don't leave me here to deal with this, Bruce. I trust you to help me through. This is a little concerning, and I don't want to be alone."

The alpha in Bruce, already responding protectively to an omega in heat, surged to the fore. "Unfair," he muttered.

"I know. I'm sorry." Steve didn't sound sorry. He looked determined. "The other guy...?"

"Isn't a factor." In sex, absolutely. Thankfully, he'd never reared his head for bonding or knotting or any of the rest. It was as close as Bruce could come to intimacy, something that didn't present as a possibility very often, and loaded with enough endorphins to keep the other guy at bay. He stared at the note Steve had written. "How long did it take you to write this?"

Steve gave a self-depreciating smile. "Too long."

"I can't promise anything," Bruce said. "Except that I'll be here."

"I understand that just having an alpha's scent around is calming," Steve responded. He tipped his head toward the fire pit. "So. I guess we have a few... days?" It was more question than anything.

That was a certainty. A few blue balled, twitchy, frustrating, miserable days. For both of them. Bruce nodded.

"Then how about you tell me what needs to be done, and I can at least... focus on something else."

Bruce nodded again. "Let's get the fire going. We can grill some dinner."

**

Night had fallen, Steve's belly was full of grilled fish and vegetables, and the bright red coals provided enough light to see by. Aside from the curl of uncertainty in his gut, Steve felt pretty good. Focusing on Bruce made him feel better.

Bruce's expression was lit by low flames. He was smiling, dimples shadowed, his hair curling riotously in his face. "I can't believe you never learned to grill."

Steve snorted. This again. Or still, he wasn't sure. "Not much time for grilling."

"Look at you! You're the all-American boy. Corn fed and everything."

Steve didn't understand the reference, but made a mental note to look it up later and let it slide. "Right, well if you're done teasing, I need to use the facilities."

Bruce smiled and gestured with his glass bottle; formerly Coke, now he used it for water. "Be my guest."

Steve stood, heading toward the back of the hut and the "bathroom;" a hole dug under a convenient tree with a roll of toilet paper inside a Tupperware container. ("To keep the bugs out," Bruce had explained.)

Even being that far from Bruce made him antsy. He'd been pretty successful in simply not thinking about heat all day, helped along by the many jobs Bruce had given him to keep him busy, but distance made it worse. 

By the time he returned (walking a little faster than he'd meant to), Bruce was looking thoughtfully at the piece of paper Steve had given him. He looked up as Steve settled back down on the bench-tree. 

"This is a pretty vague note, Steve. What made you decide to write it?"

Steve liked to think it was the fire that made his skin warm. He cleared his throat, staring into the flames. "In what sense?" he asked, stalling.

Bruce's voice was soft. "Why do you want me here? Why not do this alone? You have a pretty good idea what's going to happen. Why leave yourself vulnerable to an alpha?"

Steve picked up his own Coke bottle and twirled it between his palms, watching the sparkle of the red coals through the glass. "When I was growing up," he said slowly, "you could pick your alpha, or have none. But when it came to... the physical act, it was said that an omega couldn't be taken advantage of or raped. An omega in heat was always willing, so..." He tapered off. Thought about the stories some of the soldiers told. Even assuming half of them were made up whole cloth and the other half heavily exaggerated, there were some wince-worthy tales. Of course, the omegas always liked it; even often admitted as much. At least until a few days later, when whispers said that not all of them were happy about what had been done. 

It didn't matter. They'd liked it at the time, and beyond that no one really talked about it. Like spousal rape, if it wasn't mentioned, it didn't exist.

"An omega in heat was considered fair game for pretty much any alpha. There weren't any real protections. No real choices. So I always figured if I went into heat, I'd lock myself in a room and have Bucky check on me occasionally." Steve gave a little smile, meeting Bruce's quiet eyes for a moment. "He wasn't an alpha. I didn't really have anyone else I trusted for... that. And, frankly, it made me angry that once I went into heat, I didn't get a say in anything. I didn't have any power over what happened to my own body." 

He pulled his mind out of the past, taking a breath and letting it go. "But now... now people talk about this stuff. Now there are protections for omegas. I _have_ a choice." He laughed at himself and admitted, "Having a choice made it seem... not so bad. And when I read what people said, the consensus seemed to be that intercourse made it better, even for straight fellas. Maybe even sped it up." He looked at Bruce hopefully.

Bruce nodded. "Sometimes."

Steve nodded too. "But," he said, "if you don't want to, you don't want to. I don't want to push you into anything, either."

Bruce looked at the paper consideringly. He leaned forward, pulling it taut between his hands. "How sure were you when you wrote this?"

Steve slapped at the back of his neck as he heard a mosquito whine. He took a breath to steady his nerves. "Very sure. I trust you."

Bruce studied him, then said, "Okay." He looked at the sheet. Then he pulled a pencil stub out of his shirt pocket. "Do you care or want me around if you masturbate? Can I touch you? You just suggested you were straight."

Oh, God. People talked about _specifics_. Of course they did; Bruce had to know what Steve was consenting to. He steadied himself, told himself that it was just like campfire stories soldiers told, and said, "Yes."

"Mutual masturbation?"

He'd even _done_ that, and somehow it was worse to discuss it than to just let it happen. "Sure." His voice seemed a little tighter.

"Yes or no," Bruce said quietly. Somehow the softness of his words made it more serious.

Steve leaned forward. "Yes. At the time of that writing, I was sure about that. Still am."

"You'd thought about that?"

He knew then that he was blushing. He tried to pretend like they were talking about someone else. "I've spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out what I'd be okay with, depending on the alpha," Steve said firmly. 

"Okay." Bruce wrote something on the paper, then looked up. "Blow jobs? Hand jobs? Giving or receiving?" 

He wanted to rub his face, but didn't. Nothing that would imply he was uncomfortable, or anything less than sure about his decisions. He was talking about someone else, that was all. "Yes, to all of the above, as long as I can stop if I want to."

Bruce looked at him thoroughly. It made his blood purr. "Always," Bruce said. Then, "Anal penetration?"

Steve nodded. He wasn't sure he could speak.

"With fingers?"

Embarrassment didn't stop the image, or the way his body tightened with excitement at the thought. That had never been something that had got him going before. "Yes." 

"With a dildo?"

"You have a dildo?" Steve asked in surprise.

Bruce's gaze drifted toward the boxes piled along the side of the house. "I... bought some supplies."

Steve couldn't decide if that was incredibly thoughtful or just more embarrassing. A little bit of both. It didn't pay to have been raised in the thirties and forties.

"Yes or no?" Bruce asked.

"Yes," Steve said. "As -- as long as it's not going to make me sore later."

Bruce folded the paper and looked at him. "Anything might make you sore later. Can you define that?"

Steve rubbed his forehead. "Torn?"

"Oh, no," Bruce said quickly. "Muscle sore. I wouldn't -- no."

Steve gave him a faint smile. "This is why I trust you."

If he hadn't known better (and he wasn't sure he did), he would have sworn that the way Bruce looked at the list was almost bashful. 

Then Bruce continued with, "Knotting?" and Steve was no longer thinking about whether or not Bruce was bashful. Bruce looked up before Steve could respond. "Even if you say yes, these things may not happen. Like you said, I get a choice, too."

Steve nodded. He could respect that. It also gave him a chance to wait for his body's reaction to the word -- his mouth had gone dry and his chest tight -- to burn off a bit. "Yes," he said finally. 

"Okay." Bruce wrote something else on the paper. "Bonding?" He looked up. "I'd recommend not, except that you mentioned it earlier."

"Bonding is... more permanent," Steve said slowly, asking for clarification without actually asking. Online, bonding and knotting seemed to get used interchangeably.

Bruce suddenly looked like a professor, his tone brisk and informational. "Knotting is the biological process of an alpha knotting at the base of their erection, locking him or her into an omega while both partners have smaller orgasms for a longer period of time. It's nature's way of increasing the likelihood of pregnancy.

"Bonding," he continued, "is the more emotional process that can happen when you knot, where an alpha bites an omega's neck or throat with teeth, deeply enough to leave a scar to claim that person as taken. It creates an emotional bond that will drive the alpha and omega to remain together." He paused, the professor air falling away. "That's better done with a life partner."

Steve nodded. His heart pounded, and a tremor of anticipation ran through his hands. Something in him wanted to say, "Yes, let's do that," but instead he forced out, "No bonding."

Bruce smiled slightly. "I wouldn't have, anyway." He spent a minute looking at the list, then nodded to himself before glancing up at Steve searchingly. "How are you feeling?"

"Warm," Steve admitted. "I get a little jittery when we're apart."

Bruce nodded, and it was oddly comforting. "That's normal. Come on." He stood, tipping his head toward the ocean. "A swim'll do you good."

**

When Steve got fidgety again, Bruce asked him to finish splitting the felled tree so he could make a table. Steve was more than happy to comply, and Bruce figured it would keep his mind occupied and off what his body was doing. It seemed to settle him.

It meant that Bruce was down a couple of battery-operated lanterns -- Steve took them outside -- but that was all right. He borrowed Steve's StarkPhone and searched for "1940s a/b/o ed" and skimmed through videos.

They would have been hilarious, if he hadn't been listening to the chop of ax on wood and knowing that, for Steve, this and the bragging of soldiers had been all the knowledge he'd had. 

To be fair, the biological drawings were factual. It was the emotional bits that needed help. Statements like, "An omega in heat may feel overly warm, with a slight tingling sensation, and should trust their alpha to do what is right for them," or, in the alpha video, a mother telling her daughter, "when the time comes, your heart will know what to do." 

Fat lot of good that did anybody. 

Eventually, Steve finished splitting the log and came inside. The sun had set hours earlier, and Bruce could see exhaustion in the dark circles under Steve's eyes and the pale skin of his cheeks. A first heat took it out of anybody.

"Why don't you take the bed," Bruce suggested, "and I'll sleep on the floor?"

"I can't kick you out of your bed," Steve said, earnest without being innocent. "I wasn't exactly an invited guest, so--"

"Steve." Bruce let a touch of exasperation enter his voice, and noted how Steve suddenly focused. "Let me be an alpha here, huh? Take the bed."

Steve gave a self-conscious smile, ducking his head. "Sure, right. Just so you feel better." His eyes twinkled when he looked back up. 

Bruce normally slept in the nude, but figured this might be the time to keep his shorts on. Steve went to "use the latrine," then stripped down to his boxers -- Bruce could smell Steve's body ramping up and getting, well, _wetter_ \-- and a T-shirt and crawled into Bruce's bed. 

It didn't take long for Steve to fall into a fitful sleep. Bruce knew he wouldn't sleep; not with the smell of an omega entering heat right there. He turned the lantern down low and shuffled through his papers, glancing up only when Steve shifted restlessly. Bruce rose to check on him, laying a hand on Steve's shoulder. Steve settled, the crease between his brows smoothing out.

Bruce gave it a moment, then went back to the other side of the room and his lantern.

Steve began to twitch again.

Bruce crossed half the distance, watched Steve settle, and realized it was his scent calming Steve. With a sigh, he gathered his papers and moved to the floor beside Steve's cot.

Insects outside -- and inside -- the hut chirped and whirred. The ocean rolled against the beach not far away. A night bird cooed. 

Steve shifted, slitted blue eyes focusing on Bruce, and without seeming to entirely wake fell back asleep. Bruce moved to lean against the cot, pencil tucked behind his ear. He continued his calculations, startling once when a hand flopped against his head and stayed there. He moved it after a minute, turning to check on Steve.

Color flushed along a pale throat, but it was within the realm of normal. Bruce reached out to rest the backs of his fingers against Steve's skin, checking temperature. A little high, even for Steve, but nothing to be worried about. Steve murmured something unintelligible and moved into the touch. Bruce petted Steve gently, took his hand away, and went back to calculations.

Eventually, he balled a shirt up under his head and laid down to try and sleep. Sleep didn't come. The hut was steeped in the scent of omega. Bruce was working hard to ignore it, but his cock had no such compunctions. 

Steve murmured something again, twisting in bed. He kicked the sheet off, mumbled something else, and settled.

Bruce stared at the ceiling. 

"S'hot," Steve muttered, and then again, clearer. "I'm _hot_." Clearly awake now, the next word said in a confused, worried tone made Bruce's heart hammer. "Bruce?"

Bruce sat up instantly. Steve was propped on an elbow, and even with only the moon- and starlight coming in the holes in the walls, Bruce could see he was disheveled, flushed, slightly sweaty, and alarmed. 

"Easy," Bruce said automatically, reaching out to run his fingers through Steve's hair. He almost stopped himself, but kept going when Steve's eyes closed partway and he leaned into it. Then Steve's eyes opened again, and he sat up fully.

"God, I feel like I'm burning up. Is this normal?" He sounded genuinely worried.

"It's--" Bruce was about to say, 'In the range of expected symptoms for a first heat,' but decided that didn't sound terribly soothing and stopped. Instead, he answered, "Yes."

"And my heart?" Steve clutched at the front of his T-shirt, as if he could press the traitorous muscle back in. 

"Let me see." Moving carefully, as if it might startle Steve, Bruce took Steve's wrist, fingers on his pulse point, and felt. "Normal," he said after thirty seconds. Slow, for a normal person. A little fast for Steve, but again nothing alarming. "It just feels like it's pounding. Your body is--" Should he be getting technical? He decided to go for it. "--Getting more sensitive. Sometimes as that happens, you feel things like your heart more than you normally would. But your heart is fine, and this is normal for a first heat, too."

Steve nodded, then closed his eyes tightly. "I'm shaking."

Not visibly, but Bruce didn't say that. It wasn't an uncommon experience, either. "Just your body flipping switches."

Steve nodded, eyes still closed as if fighting off something completely unpleasant. After a moment's debate, Bruce said, "Sometimes it helps--" God, this was awkward. "--To get closer. To an alpha, I mean."

Steve slid off the cot and onto his knees beside Bruce. "Not helping," he muttered unhappily.

"Let me--?"

Steve nodded, eyes still closed. 

With a soft, steadying breath, Bruce shifted to sit beside Steve. He wrapped an arm gingerly around Steve's broad shoulders, pulling him close and down a little. Bruce was barely average and Steve was tall. He needed Steve's head to come lower. 

It wasn't Bruce's first rodeo. Before the other guy, Bruce had been through quite a few of them. He didn't know why people gravitated toward him, but they certainly seemed to. Practice paid off.

Since the other guy, it had only happened twice. The first time had nearly been a disaster, but a definite learning experience. The second time had been ill-advised, but he'd done it anyway. And now he had Steve leaning against him, going into heat, and this was probably ill-advised, too, but... He liked the way it felt.

He knew the moment Steve let go. Tension slipped out of the muscular body as Bruce's own scent soothed him, and even what had to be a strange position couldn't make Steve feel awkward or embarrassed. 

Then again, things had been different in the forties. Cuddling up to a male friend was probably normal for Steve.

Bruce held Steve a little tighter, so that Steve could relax fully without sliding. 

"That is better," Steve murmured, breath tickling Bruce's neck. 

"Thought it might be," Bruce said, trying not to get any more aroused then he already was. It was a losing battle. 

Steve's breath evened out again. He burrowed a little more firmly against Bruce's neck. Bruce sighed. He was not going to get any sleep at all until Steve's heat wound down. 

**

According to his watch (he hadn't given up on them, in spite of Tony insisting that _no one_ wore watches anymore), it was only ten a.m. 

Steve had never been too big on masturbation. He'd grown up Irish Catholic, and it left an impression. Oh, sure, he'd gotten off occasionally. But he'd always felt guilty afterward, like somewhere the Blessed Virgin was shaking her head in disappointment. ( _That,_ the priest from his childhood murmured, _was why omegas had to bond. So they could complete themselves in the sanctity of the Virgin's blessing_.) Except nowadays omegas didn't _have to_ do anything, and he'd masturbated five times since he'd woken up.

He was getting real tired of masturbating. Of the heat on his skin and the infernal itch in his blood. Of the way he found himself breathing deeply every time Bruce and his alpha scent came near. Still, it wasn't as bad as people had made out. 

Steve stood as the ache in his genitals got to be too much again, trying to be casual. Bruce was reading on a kindle -- he'd said he didn't trust Tony not to somehow find him if he used a StarkPad -- that he kept offline and charged on a battery-powered charge pad nightly. 

"I'm just... use the bathroom," Steve mumbled, heading for the door.

"Steve." 

He stopped. Bruce tore himself away from the kindle to look into one of the boxes he'd brought back from the island. He'd asked Steve to bring it in earlier, and out of it had come a few delicacies for breakfast. Now, Bruce pulled out a squeeze tube and tossed it in Steve's direction.

Steve caught it automatically.

Bruce picked up his kindle and went back to reading. "So you don't chafe."

It was lube. 

It took a great deal of effort to swallow down his embarrassment. In this day and age, omega heat and alpha rut were just another part of life. "Thanks," he managed, pretending like it wasn't as strangled as it sounded. He fled the little hut.

The air outside was fresh, and he always expected it to be invigorating. Instead, when he took his first big breath he felt the loss of the alpha-scent that permeated the hut. He wondered if Bruce normally stayed inside so much, or if it was specifically to fill the place with his scent so Steve was... better.

Steve was miserable. He hurried around to a grove of trees he'd decided to call his own, and the roll of toilet paper he'd tucked in a Tupperwear out there. His skin was slippery between his butt cheeks; another reason for coming out here. He needed to clean up. Even he could smell it, and it had to be blatant to Bruce. 

Steve reached his tree and, glancing around instinctively, began to unbuckle his belt. It took no time to get his belt off and shorts and briefs down -- the briefs were so much easier than the rationed tie-sides of his times -- and his hand on his erection. He leaned his arm against a tree trunk, feet between the roots and his forehead against his arm. He closed his eyes to block out the world, his own breathing echoing between the bark and his skin. There was a discomfort in his stomach; cramps from his body, the ache of wanting something _more_ , and plain ol' emotional distress at everything. He ignored it. It wasn't hard, with the heat raging through him. 

He considered the tube Bruce had given him, but he'd dropped it with his clothes. Bending down seemed like such a long way, when his hand was already _right there_. Steve chewed on his lower lip, a habit he'd kicked before joining the army, then finally reached down farther between his own legs until he felt his own slick against his fingers. A shiver ran through him as he touched his skin there, scooping up what his body was happily making. 

Not quite enough. Not really. Bracing for that shiver again -- both wonderful and unfamiliar -- he reached farther. His fingers brushed his hole, and he groaned against his arm. He brushed it again, this time just for the sensation. The ache of need grew, becoming a roar, and he pressed against his hole and bit his arm to stop the noises he wanted to make, then couldn't take it anymore and wrapped his slick hand around his dick, stroking. 

He came after only a moment. His body convulsed internally, the promise of something wonderful and the teeth of frustration that wonderful wasn't happening, and the familiar warmth tightened his balls and tensed his legs as he shot. 

Steve kept leaning against the tree, catching his breath. Already, the need was beginning to pool in his belly and genitals again. He'd be back out here soon enough, he knew that. But there was no alpha-scent out here, and now that the edge had been dulled, that lack made the skin between his shoulder blades itch.

He grabbed the roll of toilet paper and cleaned himself up, hissing with pain/pleasure as he tried to clean the slick from between his butt and legs. Maybe if he just stuffed some in his butt, it would absorb the slick and the scent and leave him in peace for a little while. It was absorbent, after all. And worth a shot. He put several layers of toilet paper between his cheeks, then donned his clothes and tried to make sure he was as presentable as possible. 

Okay. So he was horny and hot and itchy and kind of miserable. But it wasn't the mindless end-of-the-world drive like he'd been lead to believe. He could do this.

**

When Steve walked back into the hut, his scent nearly tipped Bruce over the edge into rut. He smelled like unsatisfied omega on the brink of full heat, needy and wanting and ready to be knotted. And he was still _Steve_ , trying to play it cool and collected and in control. 

It hadn't even gotten bad yet. Bruce wasn't sure he could do this. Steve moved restlessly around the hut, his ass tense -- Bruce wondered what was going on there, and if Steve had started experimenting and hurt himself -- and unable to settle. 

"Better?" Bruce asked, keeping his eyes on his kindle. He downloaded as much as he could whenever he went to the island, filling the kindle with scientific articles, magazines, and papers. He'd read the same paper three times now, unable to focus on what his eyes had skimmed over. 

Bruce didn't look up, but he could still smell it when Steve's skin warmed. "Yeah." 

Bruce nodded and thought about the variety of toys he'd bought while on the island, just for this purpose. He didn't think Steve was desperate enough yet not to die of embarrassment if he brought them out, but... He inhaled. Something new in the air. Setting aside his kindle, Bruce rose and walked to Steve. Prowled, he had to admit, despite his attempt to walk normally. 

Steve watched him, pupils dilating rapidly. Steve's breath came shallow and fast, eyes riveted on Bruce's face. 

Bruce stepped close, breaking eye contact finally so he could lean in and draw Steve's scent into his lungs. Musky and sweet with an undertone that was all Steve. It was heady.

When Steve spoke, it sounded faint and slightly confused. "Bruce?"

Right. Invasion of personal space. With great reluctance, Bruce got his own raging hormones under control and started to pull back, apology on the tip of his tongue. Then Steve's hand wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him close. 

"Don't go," Steve murmured, weaving forward. "S'good." Steve's head lowered slowly, brow resting on Bruce's shoulder, face turned into Bruce's neck. Bruce felt the long, drawn-out shiver that went through Steve's body. Then felt it again, when Bruce put a hand on the broad back to steady him. "Whoa," Steve breathed.

Bruce chuckled. "Yeah. Whoa." Most of the omegas he knew had gone through their first heat as teenagers, when every new sensation was 'whoa.' Apparently, that didn't change with age. "Are you doing okay?"

In response, Steve pressed his face further into Bruce's neck and inhaled. An hour, Bruce figured. Maybe two, tops, before Steve finally dropped the rest of the way. Who know what the serum and a boatload of suppressants had done, but it looked like Steve was _mostly_ following the normal pattern. 

"Come on," Bruce said, putting his other hand on the back of Steve's neck and pulling him in as Bruce took a step back. "Let's get you to the bed, okay?"

"Nhn," Steve protested. 

"Okay," Bruce answered, still walking him backward. "Then where? I think you need to lay down."

"Don't go."

Those words tugged at him, hard, and it didn't matter if it was only pheromones or an alpha responding to a vulnerable omega. "I won't," he said. But the bed was definitely too small for both of them. The floor would have to do.

"Sit," he said firmly, pushing back and down on Steve. There was no contest in strength, but Steve did it anyway, looking a little distressed until he blinked his eyes clear. 

"I'm sorry, Bruce," he said after a minute, struggling back to some form of sanity. "I don't know what just happened."

"Heat," Bruce answered simply. He wished he had a blanket to pad the floor, but pulled the pillows off the cot and laid them down. "Have a rest."

"No, I'm good." A little uncertain, Bruce thought, looking at him. 

"Okay," Bruce agreed, sitting in front of Steve with his legs folded. "But why don't I have a look at you?"

"Sure," Steve agreed. He trusted doctors, even ones that weren't quite medical doctors. Bruce tried to find some detachment and looked at Steve's eyes (dilated but not yet glassy), checked his thyroid under his jaw (normal), took his pulse (fast for Steve), and pressed his ear to Steve's back under the guise of checking his lungs while actually sniffing to see how prepared Steve's body was getting.

Pretty darn prepared. 

An hour. Maybe thirty minutes. Steve was, if anything, moving into heat as if he'd done it a hundred times, instead of the stops and starts that came with most first heats. He was soft and pliant in Bruce's hands, and Bruce tried hard not to think about when the heat came on really and how he could just slip inside Steve and--

_Not thinking about that. Really._

Bruce couldn't masturbate. Getting his heart rate up for an orgasm without the specific type of endorphin/protective hormones of knotting would bring on the big guy. He leaned away from Steve and took deep breaths. "Stay here," he said. "I'm just going to grab something."

He nearly raced out of the hut, gulping down air that didn't smell as much like omega. He was hard and aching as his own body pushed into heat-induced rut in an attempt to meet Steve halfway. 

When his head was somewhat clear, he grabbed the box of toys and took it inside. They'd need it soon enough.

**

Steve had himself together again. Whatever needy haze had come over him, it was gone now.

For a whole ten minutes. Then his body began to warm and harden, and desire ripped through him with such power that he didn't even care that the slick between his legs came with it. He needed -- needed -- heck, he just _needed_. 

He moved closer to the only source of comfort in the room, heard Bruce put down the kindle and wrap him up. He couldn't even think. Couldn't reason it out. Couldn't keep control as his body screamed at him to _do something_. That promise of something wonderful lurked nearby, but this wasn't quite wonderful. This was out of control.

And then it was gone. The wave had crashed and now ebbed, and he was sweaty and panting against Bruce's chest. "Holy Mary," he breathed. 

"Uh huh," Bruce said. "Let's get you down." 

He didn't argue as Bruce helped him lay down on his side. Bruce had put a sheet on the plywood floor and pillows there. Steve had slept in less comfortable places, and with his body going haywire he really didn't think he was going to notice it, anyway. 

Bruce pushed him onto his side, then lay behind him, wrapping arms around his chest. 

He was on fire. "So hot--" he muttered, and a minute later Bruce was helping him get his clothes off. "Is this normal?" He couldn't help the plaintive note in his voice. 

"Yeah. We could get you in the ocean, cool you down, but it'll only prolong things."

"Don't want to prolong things." It was hard to be self-conscious, even if he was wearing only underwear. The sheet rasped against his skin. Then Bruce settled behind him again, his butt cradled in Bruce's hips, and he couldn't help but rock backward. 

It was a firestorm of pleasure. He groaned and did it again, heard Bruce groan and felt a hand on his hip stopping him. He was hard as a rock and he needed -- oh God, he _needed_. 

"Steve? Can I touch you?"

"Yes yes, please yes," Steve panted, arching back against Bruce. His own hand was down his underwear, he realized, though he had no conscious memory of doing it. Bruce's palm slid down his arm and back up, the touch sending sparkles of pleasure though his entire body. Then Bruce's palm slid down his bicep, his forearm, down his hand, and fingers wrapped around his fingers, squeezing his dick just a little to slow him down. 

Steve groaned and came and had no time for embarrassment because the come didn't help. At all. He whimpered miserably. 

"Fuck," Bruce growled, and shifted behind Steve until he was gone and then back, propped up on an elbow so he could reach Steve more easily. "Let's get these off too, okay?"

Steve would have said yes to just about anything right then. He lifted his hips so Bruce could slide his briefs off, momentarily aware that Bruce was still fully clothed and then not caring at all. Bruce could be however he wanted as long as he was there. 

Steve heard something about toilet paper, a warm chuckle that made him feel so good, and then Bruce's hands slid back up Steve's leg after tossing the briefs aside. Steve shuddered and reached for Bruce, pulling him up, pulling him closer. He rolled to his back and dragged Bruce on top of him, opening his legs to cradle Bruce there. He wanted -- needed -- something--

"Easy, Cap," Bruce said sharply. "You're still a lot stronger than me."

He let go immediately. "Sorry. Sorry. Bruce, please--" But he stopped, because he didn't know quite what he was asking.

"Listen, Steve," Bruce murmured into his ear. "You can think this through and be rational and in charge, tell me what to do, and we'll run this course. Or you can let go, and let me handle you."

You, Steve noted. Not it. Not the heat. Him. He'd wanted Bruce here because he trusted Bruce. Because Bruce had been through this before. Because everything he'd read said it was so much easier with an alpha present. "Yeah," he panted. Then, to make sure that Bruce knew he was thinking, "Yes. Just handle me. Thinking is hard."

"Yeah," Bruce laughed softly. "I know." 

Bruce kissed him. It was good. He liked kissing. Liked it even more when it was Bruce and he was in heat and Bruce slid inside his mouth, tongue thrusting slowly and thoroughly. 

Steve grabbed the back of Bruce's head to keep him there, thought about accidentally crushing someone's skull, let go with effort. He clenched his fingers in Bruce's shirt instead, not really caring when he heard cloth rip. 

Bruce slid against him, rubbing against Steve's hip and erection, hand sliding down his ribcage and playing his body like a violin. Steve hooked a leg over Bruce's hips and heard Bruce moan. "Steve," Bruce said, voice whiskey-rough. "Have you ever -- ah, experimented? Lots of omegas do--"

Steve managed a, "Nhn," which was as close as he was coming to verbal expression at the moment. 

"Okay," Bruce murmured. "Okay. Mind if we try?" His hand slid down Steve's hip, around the curve of his ass. 

Steve's whole body tensed in anticipatory pleasure. "Yes, yes, yes," he blurted, going with the feeling and letting it swamp his thinking.

"I'm thinking that's yes, yes, yes, do that, and not yes, yes, yes you mind," Bruce muttered. Steve didn't bother affirming that; he was too busy pressing-not-pressing into the arm that Bruce had wrapped around his hip, gasping as Bruce's fingers ran through his slick, then over his hole. 

It was _so much better_ than when he'd done it. Steve yelled, coiling upward, nearly bashing his head into Bruce's. Bruce's other arm, the one he'd been braced on, came up and caught Steve in the throat as his new support. Bruce leaned, and Steve had no trouble taking his weight, and -- most likely the goal -- it kept space between their heads. Steve tried to use it as a reminder to _not_ sit up and fling Bruce off or otherwise accidentally hurt him. It was easier when Bruce growled with far more authority than Steve had ever heard from him, " _Stay down_."

It was an alpha command, and Steve dropped back willingly. He tried to breathe as Bruce rubbed fingers over his hole, sending waves of pleasure and need through him in equal measure. Bruce slipped a finger inside him, and he knew he was coming again, could feel it like tingling in his dick, but it didn't help at all. " _Bruce_ ," he said in frustration. 

"I know," and Bruce slid another finger into him, thrusting slowly. It wasn't what Steve wanted, except he didn't know what he wanted. He just knew this wasn't quite it. "Relax," Bruce said. His voice had deepened, kept the smokiness and the note of authority. "It's easy to take it too fast in this state. I don't think we _can_ hurt you, but let's make sure. Relax. Relax."

Steve whimpered and tried to make his muscles relax. Tried to lay on the floor instead of curling into Bruce. Tried to loosen the muscles in his leg that held Bruce as close as possible. Bruce slid a third finger into him, and it was so good he couldn't breathe. It was getting closer to right. He realized he was whispering -- "Please, please," and didn't try to stop. He rocked his hips on Bruce, driving those fingers deeper. 

"Hang on," Bruce said, and withdrew entirely. Steve yelled a wordless protest, but then Bruce's hand was on him again, rolling him to his side once more. Bruce laid down behind him and guided his hand back to his aching erection. 

Then Bruce threaded one arm under Steve's head and as far across Steve's chest as he could, keeping him close while his other hand did -- something else.

Steve bit his lip against another orgasm that wouldn't help, but stroked his dick anyway. Another one leaked out, did nothing to take the edge off, and started building again. "This is miserable," Steve groaned.

"Uh huh." Bruce sounded preoccupied. 

Something hard and blunt pressed against Steve's ass. His body reacted before his mind did, shifting and pushing back so it slid in. It was definitely bigger than Bruce's fingers, and too cold to be a body part. He groaned as Bruce pushed it farther in. 

"Try to stay calm," Bruce said into his ear, licking the skin there before kissing it gently. Bruce licked the heated flesh along his neck, too, and trapezoid, and grazed teeth over his shoulder. He shivered with it, and shuddered with the way Bruce filled him. Already it was so much better.

Steve moaned, a breath more than a noise, eyes falling closed as he was filled. _That_ was what he'd needed. And he still needed -- more. 

"I know," Bruce said, and Steve wondered if he'd spoke aloud. "Tell me when." The thrusting picked up speed, sliding in and out of him, filling and emptying him. This time the orgasm didn't dribble through him, leaving the same achy want behind. This time it built in his stomach and balls as he rocked back onto the thing inside him. He moved harder and Bruce responded in kind, until it was slamming into him and it was so perfect, so good, and when he started to come Bruce pushed two fingers into him alongside the toy and crooked them just inside, sending him spiraling over the edge with a hoarse bellow. 

The world whited out and it went on and on, his body convulsing around Bruce and the thing and his cock twitching long after there was no come left, while the rest of him milked what was inside and sent lightning rods of pleasure though him with each contraction. 

It didn't fade suddenly, leaving him exhausted. He kept tightening and relaxing even after Bruce pulled his fingers out. Kept trembling with the after-effects of... whatever that had been. It was good. It was _so_ good. He wallowed in it, allowing the tingle to run through his muscles, the flush and warmth to ease slowly out of his skin. 

He didn't know how long he'd been there when Bruce leaned over him and murmured, "Steve, I need to go."

"Mm?" He rolled slightly to look at Bruce better -- Bruce was a blur above him -- and then had to catch his breath when his weight settled on the toy that was, apparently, still inside him. He shuddered and groaned at the motion and the extra depth, and Bruce didn't speak again until it had passed.

"I'll be back in an hour. You sleep and, when you can, drink. There's water here." 

He was too tired to think of questions, let alone ask them. He just nodded. His alpha, however temporary, said to stay here. He'd stay here. Okay. No problem. 

Bruce retreated. The flap that was the door swished open and closed. Sweat dripped down Steve's neck and pooled in his collarbones. Something slid down his buttcheeks and onto the sheet below him. He didn't care about any of it.

**

Bruce didn't step foot on the island until he was sure his erection had lessened. Not gone -- he didn't know if it _would_ go away right now -- but at least not quite so obvious.

He hadn't bought condoms. What was the point? He'd figured he'd be staying in a hotel, well away from Steve. Now he cursed himself as he tied his little motorboat to the dock nearest the drugstore and hopped to shore.

He didn't like leaving Steve, even if only for an hour. He really didn't like being on the island in even a low state of rut, either. People got out of his path, looking at him with surprise that he was out and about in this condition. He didn't blame them. He stayed focused on his goal, striding rapidly down the sidewalk, his vision a haze. 

The super soldier serum meant Steve didn't have any diseases, and Bruce knew he, himself, was clean, but that didn't mean pregnancy wouldn't be an issue. In theory, Steve had been on suppressants. In reality, Bruce could see how well they'd worked.

He got the first box of alpha condoms he found, overpaying for them and not waiting for his change. He jogged back to the boat, nearly fumbling the rope before he got everything undone.

Twenty minutes to get to the island. Ten to get to the drugstore and buy condoms. At least the other people in line had let him jump to the front. Five more, though, to get back to the boat at a jog, and another twenty to get home. Hormones screamed at him that it was too long to leave an omega in heat alone. 

The ocean breeze cooled him down, helping to bring sanity back to his mind. Steve had never been in heat, which meant he'd probably never been fucked, much less knotted. Bruce had to keep it together. It would be good either way, hormones would ensure that, but he didn't want Steve's head clearing only to find pain where there shouldn't be any. Keep it together. He had to keep it together. That was his job.

Bruce pulled up to the islet closer than he should have before jumping out of the boat and hauling it to shore.

He could smell Steve. He shouldn't be able to smell Steve from here. He leaped across the sand, making a beeline to the cabin. 

Steve stood outside of it, wrapped in a sheet, glistening with sweat. His hair stuck to his temples and the nape of his neck, and his eyes looked dazed. He breathed rapidly through kiss-swollen lips, his skin flushed. "Bruce? Where--?" He dropped the sheet and staggered toward Bruce.

God, the smell was delicious. Bruce caught him, pulling his head down for a kiss. Bruce ran his hands down Steve's back, feeling the hard muscles turn pliant with desire, the sweat collecting in the small of Steve's back, the slick lower. He walked Steve backward toward the hut, and when Steve stumbled he ran his hand down Steve's leg, pulling it up around his waist.

Steve hooked it over his hip easily, and Bruce felt the bunch of muscle just before Steve braced his arms on Bruce's shoulders and lifted his other leg, too, grinding against Bruce. 

Bruce staggered, counterbalanced under the weight of a very fit super solider, and kept moving toward the hut. Steve's hands were tangled in his hair, mouth moving over his face, his jaw, tongue licking his ear. Steve whimpered as if tasting Bruce were the best thing in the world.

Bruce had to agree that it was. With Steve's legs wrapped around him it left Steve's ass open, and Bruce kept his hands there, fingers spreading slick and dancing close to Steve's hole. He brushed over it as they passed the doorway, and Steve jumped and groaned, head falling onto Bruce's shoulder. 

"Bruce," he moaned against Bruce's shirt. "Please--"

"Yes," Bruce said reassuringly. "Trust me, yes." He dropped to his knees, knew he'd feel that later, and tipped them both to the floor. Steve was too strong to worry about crushing, so Bruce didn't. He rubbed against Steve's erection, pushing Steve's head up with his face and biting gently along Steve's bared throat. 

Steve's breath caught. His hand scrabbled at Bruce's shirt, and cloth tore. Bruce chuckled breathlessly and pulled away, squirming out of his shirt when Steve wouldn't let it go. "Let's back you off, huh?" he asked, trying to keep hold of sanity. He knew what Steve needed, even if Steve wasn't thinking right. With one hand on Steve's chest to keep him there -- and thank God that Steve wasn't in an arguing frame of mind -- he slid his other hand down, sliding a finger into Steve easily. 

Steve arched back, groaning, body clamping around Bruce's finger. "Relax," Bruce crooned, thrusting gently to make sure Steve's slick had coated him enough before pulling out. Steve whimpered. "Easy," Bruce murmured, using that slick as he wrapped his hand around Steve's cock and stroked. 

Steve's breath came in great heaves and he reached for Bruce blindly. Bruce bent low, supporting himself just off Steve's body so Bruce could keep working his cock, and placed wet kisses along Steve's neck, under his ear, sucked on his lobe. 

Steve yelled and curled up with an orgasm that Bruce knew was all too unsatisfying. Come splattered between them, and Bruce milked Steve until he was done. Then Bruce grabbed his torn shirt and wiped the come up, smiling slightly as Steve twitched and gasped. 

"Better?" Bruce asked.

Steve flopped an arm over his eyes. "I have _never_ been so horny in my _life_." 

Bruce chuckled and smoothed a hand down Steve's beautiful body, lax and sated for the moment. A brief moment, if Bruce was right. Bruce was still rock hard, but that would have to wait. He couldn't just come; he needed it all. 

"It's weird," Steve continued to the ceiling. "I feel like I need -- I need--" He stopped, a flush rising on the pale column of his throat. Bruce's mouth went dry; he wanted to lick there, drag his teeth along perfect skin, and bite down hard. The pink spread farther, down Steve's gorgeous, bare chest.

"To be filled?" Bruce asked. 

Steve made a moaning, assenting noise. 

"That's normal." Bruce wondered if Steve realized his legs were still open, Bruce inside the circle of them. He wondered how long it had taken Steve to get rid of the toy. He wondered if Steve had used it again. An hour could be an awfully long time. 

Bruce ached. He slid a hand up the inside of Steve's thigh, enjoy the way Steve just relaxed and opened a little more at his touch. "Steve?" he asked hoarsely.

"Mm?" Steve shifted but didn't move his arm. His cock twitched.

Steve had already written a letter of consent, back when he'd been clear headed. This was as close to clear headed as he was going to get again for a while, and maybe a 'yes' now didn't mean as much as a 'yes' then had meant, but Bruce still wanted to hear it. 

"You still up for knotting?"

This time Steve's "Mm" sounded more like desire than anything else. The shiver than went through him, leaving goosebumps in its wake, looked promising, too. 

Bruce reluctantly left the circle of Steve's legs to stand up, unbuttoning his shorts and kicking them and his flip flops off before shucking his underwear. He tore his gaze away from Steve while he did it, thinking about the latest chemotherapy treatments to keep from coming while cloth brushed over him. His body didn't care that the big guy threatened, and it was vastly over sensitized at the moment. He went back to pick up the sheet, then fished the box of condoms out of the pocket of his shorts, ripping it apart with shaking hands and having to take deep breaths to steady himself enough to open the foil. 

Naked, he knelt back down between Steve's thighs, bending to kiss Steve's washboard stomach while sliding the condom on. Chemotherapy. Chemotherapy.

Steve's breath caught. He was already half hard again. "Bruce..."

Bruce clenched his hands in the sheet, taking deep breaths to keep from coming. Condoms had never felt so good. When the moment had passed, he settled a hand on the inside of Steve's thigh and slid down, hooking his fingers underneath and sliding back up to Steve's knee, pushing it up and out so Steve was spread for him. 

Definitely better. 

He kissed his way up Steve's abdomen, pausing to lick at hard, flat nipples. With one hand he held his weight, but with the other he fondled Steve's dick and balls, sliding down to press against Steve's hole. 

Steve whimpered and flexed away, then back down. Bruce slid a finger in easily, catching Steve's desirous groan with his mouth. He worked that finger inside Steve, feeling Steve's cock fill against him. Steve's breath came short and fast. Steve's hands roamed Bruce's back restlessly. Even his feet moved, though his legs didn't come down. 

Bruce slid another finger in, groaning at the wet heat of it. Steve gasped and ground down against Bruce's hand. 

"More," Steve panted. Bruce flattened their bodies together, moving to rub their cocks against each other. Then he froze, biting his own lip. Chemotherapy. Chemotherapy. Chemotherapy.

He slid a third finger into Steve, making sure he was open and ready. Steve cried out, " _Bruce_ , please, God--!"

Bruce worked Steve anyway, thrusting with his fingers slowly, scissoring them until Steve was rock hard and leaking, practically writhing in his attempts to make it better. Only then did Bruce pull away, pull out -- much to Steve's very vocal displeasure -- to line himself up and slide in. He moved as slowly as he could, but Steve took him easily. Steve's legs wrapped around his hips and pulled, sheathing him inside deeper than he'd have gone so soon. 

Bruce growled and bent down, nipping sharply at Steve's neck. Steve whimpered and bared his throat, hips thrusting upward to meet Bruce, legs tightening. Bruce reached back and slapped Steve's thigh, and Steve relaxed it, giving Bruce room to maneuver. "Good," Bruce murmured against him, and began to thrust.

He tried to keep it slow. He tried to take it easy. But Steve was making delicious noises and begging for more, and the next thing Bruce knew he was slamming inside, driving them both toward the cliff. He felt his knot grow, fucked Steve through the start of another orgasm, fucked until he couldn't anymore because his knot was too big to pull out, and as Steve yelled and squeezed him he came, driving deeper, shouting with relief as it poured through him.

It felt like minutes -- it probably was -- before Bruce finally stopped coming and collapsed on Steve. Steve breathed raggedly, a little tremble to his hands as he rested them on Bruce's back.

"God," Steve said shakily. "Is it always--?"

"Uh huh," Bruce said against Steve's shoulder. He licked Steve's neck, just to taste the sweat and see the way Steve moved his head to let him. Steve's heart thumped heavily, already settling down to a normal pace. Better, Steve's body stayed tight on him, waiting for his knot to go down and release them both.

"How long...?" Steve asked hesitantly. 

"Before we can unlock? Five to ten minutes, usually." 

They were silent for a while. Bruce drowsed, riding the endorphin high and the satiation from knotting. 

"It feels... really..."

He roused himself enough to prop up on one elbow, looking at Steve. Steve didn't look at him, lost in his search for the proper word. "Weird?" Bruce suggested wryly.

Steve blushed. "I was going to say good."

Bruce smiled. He flexed, moving his cock inside Steve, and was rewarded with a gasp and a widening of blue eyes. "Bruce--!" Big hands fluttered against his hips.

Bruce did it again. Orgasm rolled through him slowly, and he kept up a steady, slow pulse as it did. Those blue eyes closed and Steve caught his breath as his own body tightened and shuddered. When it finally drained out of them both, Steve gave a shaky little exhale. Fingers flexed on Bruce's hips. 

Bruce chuckled, low in his throat, and nosed Steve's jaw up to nibble on his throat. They weren't going to bond, but playing at it still felt awfully nice. 

"Is this it, then?" Steve asked, hands sliding idly up and down Bruce's back while Bruce nibbled on him. "After this, I'm done?"

"Oh, no." Bruce paused to taste a particularly sensitive bit of skin, then continued. "Two or three more days. But we've got an hours' reprieve or so. As soon as we come apart, I'm going to get you some food and water and your job is to replenish and rehydrate." Bruce paused, hearing his own words and wondering if Steve would object to being pampered.

Steve didn't. "And then what?"

"Then..." Bruce considered it. "I'll probably bend you over and knot you again, where I can get at you deeper." He could practically _feel_ Steve's blush. He grinned at it. 

"Well," Steve said faintly, as Bruce moved inside him and they worked toward another small orgasm. "That sounds nice."

**

Steve was half asleep when Bruce moved. They'd -- he wasn't sure of what to call it -- detached earlier, but Bruce hadn't done more than shift off him and pull him closer. Steve had floated there, too full of a pleasant warmth and exhaustion to care that sweat and other bodily fluids were drying. 

He cracked an eye when Bruce moved away, though. Bruce picked up the edge of the sheet and ran it across Steve's chest and stomach. 

He was covered in his own come. He expected embarrassment, and it tried to stir, but was too thoroughly squashed by contentment. Still, he forced himself to move, to take the sheet from Bruce and clean himself. "I've got it," he mumbled. 

Bruce was quiet a moment, then stood and left the hut. Steve froze, watching, but Bruce came back in moments later carrying a wet cloth. "Relax, Steve," he said in a quiet, soothing voice.

Steve quirked him a confused smile. "I am." 

Brown eyes regarded him steadily, as if assessing. Then Bruce knelt on the floor beside him, taking his wrist lightly and holding it still. Bruce ran the cloth up his arm, and it was cool bliss as the sweat -- which he was starting to realize itched -- was rinsed away. 

He couldn't just let Bruce _bathe_ him, though. He'd made the mess, after all. With a sigh, Steve pulled out of Bruce's grip and took the cloth, doing it himself. Lead settled in his stomach. It needed to be done, but somehow it felt more dreary than chores normally did.

"I'll get you some water," Bruce said, and standing, collected the coke bottle from the other part of the hut. 

"Thanks," Steve called faintly. He didn't feel thirsty. Nor hungry, either. But Bruce was the doctor and had already warned him he'd need to hydrate and eat, so... He had read about that online, too. That omegas in heat often didn't feel hungry or thirsty until much later, because the heat overrode everything. That they should make sure to drink and eat plenty, even if they didn't feel like it, because they could get sick otherwise.

Steve waited until Bruce was out of the hut to get water, then cleaned the slick between his legs with a grimace. He was back to the rest, less embarrassing, parts of his body when Bruce returned. "Is it always like that?" he asked, slowly becoming aware of aches and pains. He'd apparently banged his elbow at some point; he could feel the residual stiffness, though any bruise that might have formed was already gone. 

Bruce gave a little smile, handing him the bottle and crouching there until he started to drink. "Sometimes it's better." 

Steve's eyebrows rose, but he kept drinking. Now that the cool water was sluicing over his tongue, he was _parched_.

"It's like sex. As you get to know your partner and their needs, it improves. If you bond, it improves."

The water was gone. The very word 'bond' made Steve's heart pound and his blood tingle. "We could--"

"No," Bruce said mildly, taking the bottle. He left to refill it. Steve stood and wrapped the sheet around himself, trying to gather it off the floor. He was still at it when Bruce returned with the bottle. "What are you doing?"

"I figured..." It was hard to think. It took Steve a minute, and then he said, "I should go outside where the water is." 

Bruce looked bemused. "It gets better as you relax and let it happen," he said, with a hint of exasperation.

Steve frowned, some inner part of him wanting badly to make Bruce smile again. "I relaxed and let it happen." He felt a flush rise on his cheeks, but ignored it and pushed on. "I think that should be pretty self-evident." He hitched the sheet a little higher, using it as proof.

Bruce huffed a small laugh and handed him the bottle. He dropped half the sheet in taking it, but cared more about drinking than modesty.

"Steve, you're still in heat."

"Mm-hm," Steve agreed, swallowing.

"You're fighting it _now_." 

The bottle was almost empty again. He stared into its depths so he didn't have to look at Bruce. Bruce was donning shorts; he could see the movement in his peripheral vision. "I don't see how I'm fighting anything," he muttered, and swallowed the rest of the water.

When Bruce started to take his bottle, he held onto it. "It's okay," Steve said. "I can get more." 

"That's what I'm talking about. Steve," Bruce said firmly, "give me the bottle."

Steve let go almost without meaning to.

"Wrap up if you want. It's okay if the sheet gets dirty, I'm going to wash it. Come outside with me." 

The itchy, needy feeling that had been building subsided as he did what Bruce said, following Bruce out into the Fiji sunshine. Bruce started to refill Steve's bottle, and he felt duty-bound to say, "I can--"

Bruce gave him a quelling look. It was a look Steve would have smiled at before, but now, somehow, it made him stop in his tracks. The look softened. Bruce shut off the tap from the water tank and closed the small distance between them. He wrapped his hand around the back of Steve's neck firmly. It shouldn't have felt reassuring, but somehow did it. Everything in Steve settled.

"There's a strong emotional component to heat," Bruce said gently in the air between them. "That's what you're fighting. My end of it is to care for you. Your end of it is to rest for the next bout of mating, and be cared for. It feels better when you let me fuss instead of doing it yourself, right?"

Steve thought about the lead in his stomach and the way it felt good when Bruce touched him, and reluctantly nodded.

"Feels better for me, too. So let me fuss."

Steve frowned slightly. "I'm not used to... this."

Bruce chuckled, releasing him and stepping back. He offered up the bottle, and Steve took it. "I know. You're one of the most self-sufficient people I've ever met. You could probably do with learning how to let others help you, but this isn't the time. It's just heat. Let it happen. It's not going to change you once it's gone."

Steve inhaled and exhaled slowly. 

"Sit. I'm going to make you some food and get the wash going."

He made himself comfortable on the sand and rock, back leaning against the fallen tree. He held the bottle in his hands and took a plate of fruit slices when Bruce handed it to him. He was glad it wasn't anything more filling than mango and papaya; he wasn't sure he'd have been able to eat. As it was he picked at the food, more aware of what Bruce was doing (filling a giant plastic container with hot water) then what he was putting in his mouth.

The world floated around him, once he gave himself permission to just be a lump. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when Bruce came to a stop beside him and said, "Stand up for me, Steve."

Steve clambered to his feet, tangled in the dirty sheet.

"Drop the sheet." Bruce was holding a clean, still-folded one. 

Self-consciousness prickled at him -- he was _naked_ under the sheet -- but it was a distant sort of self-consciousness, from another life. He let the sheet fall in the sand, feeling somehow whole when one corner of Bruce's mouth turned up in approval. Bruce stepped close to him, so close their chests rubbed together. Steve bared his throat unconsciously, and Bruce murmured in appreciation and inhaled against Steve's skin. It was like his blood had turned to champagne, fizzing in his veins. 

"God, you smell good," Bruce breathed, then shook out the clean sheet and wrapped it around him, bending afterward to pick up the dirty one. 

Steve stood there for a long while, letting the fog in his mind clear slowly. His skin felt electrified. Even the rasp of cloth was thrilling. "How could it possibly be _better_?" he asked in awe.

The dirty sheet went into the container of hot water and soap, with Bruce pushing it deeper. Bruce chuckled. "Doing what feels right feels better. Doesn't it?"

Steve had to think about that. He hadn't argued with his impulses since Bruce had implied he was, and he did feel better. 

"It's hormones and pheromones. No one expects an omega in heat to be thinking or acting normally. In the fifties a few states even tried passing laws that put an omega in heat into asylums or made them temporary property to be taken care of by others. There was a big to-do about it back then." Bruce glanced at him, eyes running over Steve's sheet-hidden body.

Steve could practically feel Bruce's gaze, like a pressure on his skin. He sat back down slowly, focus narrowed to Bruce.

"Be glad you slept through it," Bruce murmured, and scrubbed the laundry. "You can push through a heat rationally if you have to, but it's misery-making. Better to let it happen. It's the same with rut."

That caught Steve's attention. He tipped his head. "Are you in rut?" Bruce seemed pretty put together.

Bruce smiled at him. It felt good. "Heat-induced rut. It's a little different. More... protective. Less mindless breeding. I haven't been in that type of rut since... oh, graduate school, I guess. I started on suppressants then. Stayed on them after the other guy showed up. Seemed smart."

Steve nodded. Made sense. "Where do you get them when you're on the lam?"

Bruce rang out the sheet with a twist of muscular arms. He wasn't lean like Steve and Tony, but there was still muscle under that layer of softness. "Planned Parenthood and other operations like it." 

Right. Steve knew about Planned Parenthood. He watched the muscles in Bruce's back flex as Bruce hung the sheet up over a line tied between the hut and a tree. Bruce's shoulder muscles worked, skin glistening under the sunshine. 

Need built slowly in Steve's belly. Not desperation, like it had been before. Just... warmth. He shifted a little, and realized the wetness was coming back. 

Bruce turned around, shorts riding low on his hips. He had a four pack instead of a six pack, and a dusting of hair that trailed down under the waistband of his shorts. There was a soft bulge at his fly that hadn't been there a little bit ago. "Drink some water," Bruce said. His voice was just a touch huskier, Steve thought. 

"I've never been attracted to a man before." It was... odd. He picked up his bottle and drained it.

Bruce chuckled. "You're not now, either. You're attracted to an alpha." Barefoot, Bruce came walking around the fire. "How're you feeling?"

"Mmm." It summed everything up nicely. His heartbeat pattered when Bruce looked at him like that, searching and serious. He wanted to do things to Bruce to make him gasp and scream--

Except that wasn't quite right. That was his usual fantasy, to make love to a woman until they were sated and sleepy. He wanted Bruce to do things to _him_. Steve's mouth went cottony. He swallowed to work up spit. 

"You know," Bruce said, twitching a bit of sheet out before sitting on it. "The other way to make things really good is to prolong it a little. Just like with sex."

The idea made Steve shiver. "I don't think I could keep from coming." 

Bruce smiled slowly. "No, I don't think so. We just have to start before you peak." His brown eyes were dark and hungry. "Before you're at the point of desperation. Have you ever had sex with another man outside heat?"

Steve shook his head slowly, mesmerized by Bruce's gaze. 

"Well, this'll be new, then." Bruce's hand slid under the sheet, across his ribs. Steve arched into it, lids fluttering closed with pleasure. Bruce's mouth brushed lightly over his. He followed it, wanting more, and Bruce chuckled and gave it to him. He opened under the quiet demand from Bruce's tongue, shivering at the very thoroughness. Bruce possessed him, the kiss gently taking everything Steve had to give, breaking only to catch a breath before kissing again. 

Steve's hands stuttered over Bruce's back, enjoying the feel of smooth, warm skin. But mostly, Steve thought about Bruce's lips and the hand running teasingly up and down his obliques. A protesting moan escaped him, and he decided he didn't care.

Bruce broke the kiss, chuckling. "Give me your throat," he whispered huskily.

It was like a yank in his guts, something he couldn't deny. Steve tipped his head back, excitement and a shivering sort of anticipation sliding through him. His breath caught when Bruce's teeth scraped along his windpipe. Desire pooled in his groin, and he arched up toward Bruce's mouth. "Please--" He didn't even know what he was begging for. And God, but he _was_ begging. Anything, anything to make it better.

But Bruce only gave him a sharp nip on his collarbones and a low growl. Steve groaned. 

As Bruce moved the sheet off him, exploring him inch by slow inch, the breeze caressed his flesh and made him shudder. 

"Lay down," Bruce murmured, and he didn't think about how easy it was to follow the request, how much he wanted to do exactly what Bruce told him. He just moved away from the log and lay on the sheet over sand, following Bruce's hands as they guided him. 

"Good," Bruce crooned. The single word shot like lightning through Steve, electrifying him. His heart pounded with pleasure, his cock hardened, his hands itched to touch Bruce. He did, carding his fingers through curly brown hair. Bruce smiled as if he'd done something wonderful and rose over him, capturing his mouth in a deep, penetrating kiss. Steve arched into it, feeling like the world could end right then and there and he'd die perfectly happy.

Steve tightened and relaxed his fingers in Bruce's hair, enjoying the thick, soft curls. Bruce chuckled, sliding his callused hands down Steve's sides. When he moved away, moving lower, Steve gave a little protesting noise. Bruce ignored it, kissing and lapping down Steve's sternum, then his belly. His hands gripped Steve's hips, holding him still when Steve would have bucked. He spent a cruel amount of time at Steve's abdomen, licking and kissing and nibbling at soft skin and the faint line of hair.

"Bruce," Steve panted, knowing that he _could_ thrust upward despite Bruce's hands, but feeling no inclination to go against what Bruce was clearly asking of him. 

"Mm?" Bruce sounded like he was enjoying himself. 

Steve couldn't get a hand around to his own cock, achingly hard now, because Bruce was in the way. "Could you-- I need--" He devolved into a groan as Bruce's thumbs slid inward, toward his erection. Bruce's hands were broad, and his thumbs played at the base of Steve's cock without actually stroking it. It was enough.

Bruce moved his head out of the way with a chuckle as Steve came, hands clenched in the sheet, groaning. It was good, but like earlier, only a small release of the pressure he felt. He dropped back, both relieved and intensely frustrated at the arousal that continued to hum through his veins. 

"Be still," Bruce murmured, and picked up a cloth he must have brought with him to clean Steve off. Steve started to summon enough energy to object, to do it himself, and then remembered what Bruce had said about allowing things to happen. Letting it happen was blissful. The cloth was slightly damp, cool on his overheated skin, soft and alluring. The breeze played wherever it left Steve's skin moist, making him moan. 

When his chest and stomach were washed, Bruce folded the cloth and ran the clean side down Steve's hipbones, then around the base of his cock. Steve jumped and gasped, grabbing for Bruce's hand.

Bruce gave a deep, throaty chuckle and leaned down to kiss him. "I know," Bruce said, though Steve wasn't even sure _he_ knew. "Trust me." And of course he did, but Bruce still had to pull his fingers away before he let go. 

He propped himself up on an elbow, wanting to be closer, still itchy and achy with need, now over-sensitive from coming. 

Bruce rubbed the cloth along the base of his cock, then down to cup his balls. Steve bit back a curse Tony would have used freely, shuddering with horrible, agonizing pleasure. His erection was filling again, just that fast. He twisted to press his forehead to Bruce's side, breathing in the emotionally soothing alpha-scent. 

Everything that happened was frustrating and weird and, some distant part of his mind thought, alarming. But having Bruce here, catching Bruce's steady, aroused, protective scent, made it better. Somewhere deep in his bones, Steve knew it would be okay if he just stuck close to Bruce. 

"Good," Bruce murmured. He tossed the rag somewhere and bent, following its cool damp with the wet heat of his mouth. 

Steve had had blow jobs, though not since waking from the ice. He doubted very much that it was the ice nap that made this particular blow job steal his breath and leaving him yelling and coming before he'd even thought he was fully hard. It was so good, and he was so sensitive from the last orgasm, that it was almost painful. Something deep inside him throbbed, too, and despite how wonderful it was to come, he sagged back with a noise akin to a frustrated whine. 

Bruce worked back up Steve's body, chuckling, "Poor baby," said against Steve's neck, where he scraped his teeth. Steve shivered and tipped his chin back, inviting more, but Bruce moved away. 

Steve opened his eyes to see where Bruce had gone, keenly aware that his alpha (if only for the moment) wasn't _there_. But Bruce had simply stood up, shucking off his shorts to expose a hard cock surrounded by black hair. 

There were so many competing emotions, it made Steve a little dizzy. Desire and need and want were foremost, but some little part of his mind was noting that even though Bruce had already taken him, it seemed too big for his anus, and it was kind of strange looking, and it was a little weird, too, that he wanted it so badly when he'd never been interested before. 

Bruce laughed. "Stop _thinking_ , Steve." 

The words made him relax a little. "Is it that obvious?"

Bruce tipped his head in a so-so gesture, and offered a smile that warmed Steve down to his toes. "Give me your throat."

Steve came to his feet, taking a step toward Bruce and tipping his head. It was a glorious feeling, and he wanted Bruce to bite down, hard. So badly he ached with it.

Bruce ran the backs of his knuckles over Steve's windpipe. It shot straight to his guts, and for once he didn't even mind the wet that increased at the touch. He caught his breath through parted lips, closing his eyes in ecstasy. 

Bruce did it again, with his nails this time, and it almost drove Steve to his knees. Bruce wrapped his hand around the back of Steve's neck, squeezed tight, and growled, "Mine." Steve could feel the word against his collarbones. 

He whimpered, hands landing hard on Bruce's waist to steady himself. "Please." Thoughts couldn't survive in his mind. Sensation and desire blotted them out. He was hard again, he realized faintly when his cock rubbed against Bruce's abdomen. 

Bruce turned him around, and he gave a little noise of protest that stopped as soon as Bruce pushed him downward. Steve's knees did buckle, then, but Bruce followed him quickly so that contact was never broken. Steve leaned back against Bruce's chest, inhaling the delicious, necessary scent of alpha. It was spicier than usual -- rut, Steve thought -- and it made the slick between his legs increase. 

Bruce's hands on his hips pulled him near as Bruce knelt. He could feel Bruce's erection sliding between his cheeks, and he whimpered, biting his lip against any other noise, at the rapturous tension it triggered throughout his body. Bruce groaned against his shoulder, then, with a ragged breath, pushed him up. 

Steve started to protest, but then Bruce's mouth was at the small of his back, kissing and teasing while one of Bruce's hands gripped his hip hard enough to bruise if not for the serum, and the other slid up the inside of his thigh. 

"You're quiet," Bruce said, fingers sliding through the wetness and spreading it up between Steve's cheeks.

"Don't--" Steve had to catch his breath. "Don't mean to -- be--" He exhaled shakily as Bruce's fingers slipped deeper between his cheeks, but still not quite where he needed them. "Bruce, please." He started to lean forward, not sure he could remain upright, but Bruce's one-handed grip tightened and he stayed where he was. 

Bruce placed a soothing kiss in the small of Steve's back. "Let me play." 

Steve whimpered.

"Uh huh. I'm going to make you scream, my quiet little omega." 

"Not -- not much of a -- a screamer." Never had been, and if there was one thing the army taught you, it was to keep quiet.

"I'll consider that a challenge." Bruce licked the small of Steve's back, then lower, at his tailbone, just above the crease of his cheeks. "Bend now." 

Steve dropped to his hands, relieved to ease his shaking muscles. It left him open and exposed and he couldn't bring himself to feel the embarrassment he was pretty sure he ought to be feeling. Bruce's fingers ran firmly down his crease, and then one slid inside him.

"Oh, God," Steve gasped, and dropped to his elbows because he couldn't stay solid on his hands. His whole body tightened, and when Bruce ran the backs of his knuckles across Steve's erection, he came with a cry muffled against his arm. He was still convulsing when Bruce slid another finger in, thrusting in and out. Steve clenched and whimpered into his arm, the orgasm drawn out, still shuddering through him almost painfully as Bruce finger fucked him. Bruce didn't stop; one hand remained on Steve's hip to steady him, the other working at him as the orgasm finally ended and he went lax. Except that Bruce was still penetrating him, over and over, and it made everything inside Steve tense and twitch and beg for something more. He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't stop shuddering. 

"God, Bruce, stop," he panted.

Bruce's voice was liquid sex, lust roughened, contemplative. "Hm. No. You don't want me to stop." He thrust a third finger in, so slowly, so that Steve felt every tiny bit of it as it breached him and slid all the way.

His breath came out in a shaky whisper, as his whole body ached for more. "No," he admitted, voice broken. "I don't want you to stop." He was getting hard again already, becoming sore from the orgasms -- he hadn't known that was possible -- and a need building inside him greater than anything he'd ever felt. He pushed back on Bruce's fingers, whining.

"You're doing so good," Bruce crooned, leaning forward to place kisses all along Steve's back. "Let it go, Steve. Let me have everything." 

Bruce pushed into him, and he pushed back, his body moving almost of its own volition. 

"Yes," he panted, and again as if he couldn't stop himself, "yes, yes." He nearly cried out in protest when Bruce's fingers pulled out, but then something better pressed close. Slowly, achingly slowly, spreading and stretching him in the most amazing way possible. Both of Bruce's hands held his hips, drawing him back, penetrating him deeper.

When his hips were cradled in Bruce's, and Bruce was whispering, "So good, you're so good, taking me so deep," he came again. Bruce fucked him through it, bodies moving together, the perfect internal slide and stretch and push of something inside him. He did cry out, almost in protest as the orgasm faded, leaving him _still wanting_. 

Bruce stopped fucking him, wrapped strong arms around him and held him close, giving him a rest. "Good," Bruce murmured against his back. "You're doing so good. God, you're everything an alpha could possibly want. You're amazing, Steve. So perfect." 

Steve shook, sitting up and settling back on Bruce, gasping as it pushed Bruce's cock deeper inside him. Bruce groaned. Sweat dripped down Steve's back, and Bruce grabbed the cloth and wiped him clean, cooling the fire that burned externally as well as internally. 

Steve was exhausted and electrified, needy and wanting, still unsatisfied and ready to scream with frustration. But the erection inside him felt so, so good, and the alpha-scent surrounding him made him feel safe and taken care of, with the sure knowledge that everything would be all right in the end. Bruce would take care of things. Bruce would take care of _him_. 

As the fire started to build again, low in his belly, Bruce's hands moved. One held him steady, but the other drifted down, running flat over Steve's abdomen, then down around his cock, along the insides of his thighs. It was soothing and arousing all at once. Steve groaned in pleasure and tipped his head, baring his throat. Bruce's hand rose and squeezed his neck tightly, making him shudder, then slid all over his body, running over his nipples, his obliques, down his thighs, back up over his hip. 

Bruce fondled his half-hard cock, cupped his balls, stroked until he started to fill again. Steve whimpered; it was wonderful and aggravating. Bruce kissed his shoulder blade, then urged him up onto his knees, forward onto his hands. "On your elbows again," Bruce murmured, folding forward to keep his chest to Steve's back as Steve obeyed. 

Bruce pushed into him, slowly, and though he was already stretched to accommodate Bruce's length and girth, he still shivered at the indescribable sensation of being filled completely. Bruce moved inside him. Slowly at first, working him back up into need after the short rest. Bruce urged his hips back a little, changing the position, deepening his thrust. Steve groaned in almost painful pleasure. It was a steady, easy rhythm, sliding in and out, working him up each time. Bruce shifted again, and Steve caught his breath as Bruce hit something inside him that shivered light throughout his whole body. 

"Oh, God yes," Steve couldn't stop from saying. It earned a deep, satisfied chuckle from Bruce. 

The steady pace kept his orgasm from building too fast. His cock filled, fluid leaking from the tip. Ecstasy hovered right at the edge, but having felt it and it's empty promise, Steve wasn't eager to fall over again. This, here, being held at the brink while Bruce fucked him, was all he could ask for.

He _felt_ it when Bruce thickened. Steve's eyes opened in surprise, feeling the extra stretch at his hole every time Bruce pulled out. Everything in him coiled, whispering that this would be so much better. His breath came out shaky, sounds that he couldn't quite stop coming with it. As Bruce thickened, something that hadn't been touched before was, and Steve let out a choked cry. 

Then Bruce was too thick to keep pulling out, and that thing that hadn't been touched before was screaming as Bruce jerked against it with tiny little movements. It was rapture. Steve clenched hard, crying out as he came, as Bruce drove deeper and locked into place. 

It was as if his soul was being pulled out of his body, filled with wonder and perfection, stroked all over, and pushed back inside. He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. All he could do was clench and yell and ride it out.

When it was over, he found himself on his side, Bruce at his back still locked inside him. The frustration of having come and still being unsatisfied was gone. His limbs were heavy, almost impossible to move. The world floated around him. When Bruce shuddered and came again inside him -- how could he possibly feel that? -- it was like heaven slid through him and was gone, leaving him too blissed out to notice any soreness. He had absolutely no inclination to do anything except lay there, shivering with pleasure when Bruce bit his shoulder and came again, letting the earth drift by around him. 

He didn't sleep. It was too wonderful for that. He simply rested, content in Bruce's arms, letting the tiny orgasms slide by without any attempt to hold onto them. Everything was perfect.

**

The next two days passed in a blur of drinking, sleeping, and screwing. On the third day Steve woke feeling muzzy-headed and, for the first time in three mornings, without a hard-on. 

They were fucking again by mid-morning, but Steve figured it was a sign. 

The fourth day was spent eating, sleeping, and drinking. Steve masturbated twice, but the bone-deep desire to have something inside him was gone. He still let Bruce take care of him; Bruce seemed to like it, and it made him feel warm and funny in his chest. Bruce assured him it was the lingering heat.

By the fifth day, Bruce declared him fit to travel. He hadn't meant to be gone so long. He figured Fury was probably having puppies by now. 

"How often should I... look forward to this?" Steve asked, giving Bruce a dry look. While the sex had been _wonderful_ , being out of his mind had been weird. And now that he was clear-headed again, he couldn't understand half of what had seemed so appealing before. It was a strange sort of situation. 

"Well, keeping in mind that stress can knock an omega out of heat at the slightest provocation, every six months if you just stick to training recruits."

Steve grunted. That didn't seem likely. "So if I skip a heat, then... six months later?"

Bruce shook his head. "If you skip a heat, it'll hit whenever your body lets down again." Bruce handed him something and he took it without looking, searching for a place in his backpack for it. Then he realized it was a knotting dildo, and handed it back to Bruce with a mock-serious look. Bruce grinned.

"If I'm not used to heats enough to know what it feels like to start one," Steve said, honestly concerned, "and the suppressants apparently don't work, then how will I spot the signs?"

"Mm." Bruce sat back, bare legs stretched out before him, and pondered the blue sky out the doorway. The flap had been pulled to one side to let in a breeze. "There's a device they sell in Japan and England. In England it's called, unimaginatively, the heat-predictor. It takes your temperature every morning, and has an uncanny accuracy rating. Green for go, yellow for starting, red for heat. I'd get one."

A little relieved, Steve nodded. 

"Tony could probably make you something better and fancier."

Steve said dryly, "I'd rather not discuss this with him."

Bruce crooked a smile. His brown hair fell in his face. He looked more at ease than he had since Steve had met him, alone on this little islet.

"I'm glad you're doing well," Steve said. "Really."

Bruce looked at him, warm and friendly. "I'm glad you came." Then his eyes twinkled mischievously, though he affected an innocent expression. "Over and over and over--"

Steve shoved him, laughing. "Thanks for the reminder." He grabbed his duffel and stood. Bruce followed him, scooped a wide-brimmed floppy hat up off the ground and plopping it on Steve's head.

Two days ago, even yesterday, Steve wouldn't have thought twice about leaving it there because his alpha had put it there. Now, he took it off and planted it on Bruce's head, pulling his baseball cap out of his pack and pulling that on, instead. He adjusted it twice and headed for the door.

They made small talk as they walked to the motorboat. Then the wind kept them from having any conversation at all, and the next thing Steve knew, they were docking on one of the main islands. 

"You can get back to the airport easily from here," Bruce said, flipping the rope around a pylon. 

How did you say thanks to someone for sticking close and banging your brains out? Steve stood in the boat awkwardly. 

Bruce tucked his hands in his pockets and stood there as well.

"So," Steve said, peering out at the sun on the water. "Would you mind company in, oh, I don't know. Six months or so?"

Bruce chuckled, ducking his head in that way he had, as if he were thinking. "If I'm still here," he said, looking back up into Steve's face. "You're welcome to come... visit." 

Steve grinned at Bruce, settling a hand on his shoulder. Men in this decade weren't nearly as demonstrative as they'd been in Steve's time. But then -- ah, heck. He pulled Bruce in for a hug, felt Bruce hesitate, then laugh and hug him back. Steve released him and vaulted onto the dock.

He flipped the rope back into Bruce's boat, and lifted a single hand in farewell.

Bruce waved back, then carefully steered the motorboat away from the docks.

Steve waited until he was sure no bigger vessels were going to take Bruce out, then turned and faced the throngs of tourists and natives. He felt better than he had in _weeks_. Whistling, he went to find his way home.

 

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If you enjoyed this, you should check out my novels at www.jbmcdonald.com. Because it is a lot more m/m smut, only with a lot more plot, too. ;) (I have no shame.)  
JB


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